


How Lian Learned To Hate School

by LibraryMage



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Autism, Gen, autistic Artemis, autistic Lian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-03
Updated: 2014-08-03
Packaged: 2018-02-11 12:43:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2068677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LibraryMage/pseuds/LibraryMage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In order for her school to agree to accommodate her needs, Lian has to get a "real" diagnosis first.  But Artemis's attempts to get her niece what she needs don't go exactly as planned.</p>
<p>Written for the Autistic Fanfic Exchange.  Autistic characters: Artemis Crock and Lian Nguyen-Harper.  Needs a new title.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Lian Learned To Hate School

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WildAndFreeHearts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildAndFreeHearts/gifts).



Lian’s life was a bit complicated, legally speaking.  Besides the fact that her mother’s criminal history had marked her as an “unfit parent” (an idea that anyone who knew Paula Crock rolled their eyes at), the fact of the matter was that there were logistical issues with dragging a seven-year-old around the world while you went about the business of killing people.  It was much simpler when she was a baby, Jade had said.  At least then she could be carried more easily.  As for her father…well, things were always complicated when Roy was involved.  One minute Lian would be the only important thing in his life, and the next his depression would take over and he’d barely notice her.  It wasn’t entirely his fault, but it was never easy to deal with.  And that was when he was actually _there_ , instead of off in different corners of the world, in his own business of saving people.  They both tried their best, but in the end, there were some normal parental duties they were just incapable of performing.

Which is how Artemis ended up stumbling her way through an explanation of how no, she wasn’t Lian’s legal guardian, but her parents were away “on business” and had authorized her to act as their proxy for anything related to Lian while they were gone.  The secretary raised an eyebrow in suspicion and Artemis handed her a signed document to prove her claim was true.  She wasn’t particularly concerned right now.  She’d been reciting the same speech and carrying around the same document for years now, explaining to doctors, teachers, and everyone else under the sun that yes, she _was_ the person to contact regarding any decisions about her niece.  Once or twice, in the early years, Artemis had considered trying to get custody of Lian herself, for the sole reason that it would make taking care of her so much easier.  But she had never gone through with it.  She and her sister might butt heads at home and in the field, but Artemis wanted to make sure that this was the one thing they would _not_ have to fight over.

The secretary handed the paper back to Artemis, nodding to signify that everything was in order.  Artemis nodded back and walked to the waiting area, where Lian was already sitting on the floor.  As Artemis sat in a chair nearby, she noted that Lian was rocking back and forth, an act Artemis knew was a sign of distress.

_No wonder,_ she thought, rubbing her temple.  _These lights are torture._   Fluorescent lighting had always been painful for her, and she remembered how much worse it had felt when she was Lian’s age and was still trying to figure out how to cope with it.

She left Lian to it as they waited.  When Artemis was trying to block out how much lights hurt, she’d always wanted to be left alone, and figured Lian would want the same thing.  As the minutes ticked by, Artemis tapped her finger against the arm of the stiff waiting room chair.

They were here at the request of Lian’s teacher.  Months ago, she had called Artemis in for a meeting and suggested that she take Lian to a specialist to be evaluated.  For several minutes, she had danced around the topic, until Artemis had snapped at the teacher, telling her that if she wanted her to do something, she needed to be up front about what that something was.  Only then did the teacher say that she thought Lian might be Autistic.  That was when Artemis had been unable to stop herself from rolling her eyes.  Of _course_ Lian was Autistic.  She’d have thought that was obvious.  But before her teacher would actually do anything to accommodate Lian, she insisted on having an actual on-paper diagnosis.  Which is what had led them to be here, sitting in this waiting room under those damned fluorescent lights.

\---------------------------------

Almost five months later, Artemis and Lian were in almost the same position as they had been when they started this process, and Artemis was about ready to punch somebody.  She was tired of the endless visits to therapists who were nothing but condescending to her and her niece.  She was tired of being told “we just need a bit more time” when she asked when they would just write down a real diagnosis already.  She was tired of people insulting her intelligence by acting like she didn’t know that they could’ve given Lian an official diagnosis _months_ ago, but were still dancing around it, as if writing down a DSM code was a death sentence.

Lian was having it even worse than her.  Her school would still do nothing to make it easier for her to be there, but they still expected her to be there, and to be just like all the other students.  This, above all else, made Artemis furious.  _They_ were the ones who had said Lian was Autistic.  If they knew that, then why were they acting like she wasn’t?  And the more they acted like Lian’s needs didn’t exist, the more frustrated Lian got, and the worse she did in school.  The worse she did, the more she was convinced that her teachers didn’t care and didn’t like her.  And now the other kids had noticed teachers singling her out, telling her to “stop fidgeting” and “pay attention,” and Artemis knew firsthand how other kids could be when they knew something was off about you.

All of this came to a breaking point one day when Artemis picked Lian up after school.  Lian got in the car, buckled herself in, crossed her arms over her chest, and started glaring at the floor, obviously angry about something.

“What’s wrong, kiddo?” Artemis asked, glancing in the rearview mirror so she could see her niece better.

“I _hate_ school!” Lian shouted, kicking the back of the seat in front of her.  “I hate it, I hate it, I hate it!  Everyone is stupid and mean!”

That was when Artemis noticed Lian’s eyes were red and puffy.  She had been crying even before she had gotten in the car.  Artemis was seeing red now.  She could remember Lian’s first day of Kindergarten, when she had been so excited.  She used to love school, and people who were supposed to help her had ruined it for her.  Because she was just different enough to be singled out, but not “officially” different enough to get what she needed.

“I know, sweetie,” Artemis said, reaching one hand back for Lian to hold.  The whole drive home, Lian held her hand while she cried quietly in the back seat.

\---------------------------------

When they got home, Artemis sat Lian on the couch.

“Lian,” she said.  “You don’t have to go back there if you don’t want to.”

Lian perked up, her eyes suddenly a bit brighter.

“I don’t?” she asked.

“No,” Artemis said.  “We can figure something else out, something that you’ll like better.”

Lian nodded, all trace of sadness gone from her face.

“Okay,” Artemis said.  “I’ll be right back.”

Artemis went into her room to get some privacy and picked up the phone.

“Come on,” she muttered.  “Pick up, pick up.”

“Hello?” a voice answered.

“Mr. Carr, it’s Artemis Crock,” she said, hoping he’d actually recognize her name.  She and Lucas Carr only vaguely knew each other from the few times they’d bumped into each other in the team’s HQ.

Luckily, he did know who he was talking to.

“Hey Artemis, what can I do for you?”

“You used to homeschool Gar, right?” she asked.  Ever since Garfield Logan’s skin had turned green and he’d gained shapeshifting abilities, he had avoided going to a regular school.

“Yeah, but you knew that,” Carr said, his voice hinting that he knew what she was going to ask.

“How would you feel about taking on a new student?”

“Lian?”

“Yep.”

“You know, I’m not really—”

“I know you’re a high school teacher, and you’re not used to working with little kids,” she said.  “But it’s just a temporary fix.  Until we find something better.”

“Alright,” he said.  “I’m sure I can handle a second-grader for a little while.”  He paused for a second before continuing.  “Artemis, is there something going on I should know about?”

“She’s Autistic,” Artemis said.  “But she doesn’t have a diagnosis yet, so they’re being complete –” she cut herself off.

“Jackasses?” Carr finished for her.  “Yeah, I know the type.  Don’t worry.  I mean, I don’t really know much about autism, but you get to call the shots here.”

“Good,” she said.  “And thanks.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said.  “After “can you homeschool my green, shapeshifting little brother” this is actually a pretty normal request.”

A few minutes later, Artemis hung up the phone and went back to the living room.

“It’s all settled,” she told Lian.  “You know the team’s new HQ?”  Lian nodded.  “Well, a few times a week, you’re gonna go there, and someone’s gonna help you with the stuff you’d be learning in school.”

Lian jumped off the couch and hugged her.  Artemis knew this would be a nice change for her.  Next year, she’d look at other schools in the area, maybe some not in the area, because hey, why limit yourself when you have access to Zeta tubes?  They might have to get creative, but she and Lian would find something that worked.


End file.
